


I'll Come Around

by randomramblesff



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Tension, F/M, One Shot, annie's on a date and jeff's in the same bar, just an idea that came to my head, season 5, set at some point during s5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomramblesff/pseuds/randomramblesff
Summary: The universe is just a cruel coincidence making place that happens to have placed them in the same bar at the same time. Technically, she walked in after him, so if anything, this should only be awkward for her. Not that it should be awkward at all, in fact, he’s more than capable of still getting on with his evening with Annie on a date behind him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (Title from James Bay "If You Ever Want To Be In Love". Idea from my angsty brain that likes to make up random stuff that is completely pointless. Can be read as a one shot as if it were during canon Season 5. Shoutout to my main pigeon for basically being a beta to all my fics; you know who you are!)

It's one of those nights which has him contemplating packing it all in, changing the direction and just saying goodbye to it all. He could leave everything he’s started to build up over the past few years, he could travel, he could avoid the crippling pain of everybody else leaving because he’d be the one doing it for them.

In his head, it seems fairly simple, but on paper, there are a lot more technicalities between an off the cuff thought caused by loneliness and longing, and actually picking himself and all his belongings up and _doing_ it.

Instead, Jeff does what he knows doesn't involve moving money around, cancelling bills and everything else he’s too lazy to do, and quite frankly, not brave enough for; he slumps down on a bar stool at someplace in downtown Greendale and orders a Macallan neat.

He spends a few moments to himself, letting the amber liquid burn satisfyingly down his throat, filling him with a sense of _false_ bravery which allows him to look around the bar and see if there’s anyone else in need of turning their longing into having. He usually just waits in his seat until a long-legged stranger decides to waltz up to the side of him. They don't even have to be long legged, they just have to have the courage to do it - whether it’s been induced by alcohol or not, he doesn't mind.

It's always been attractive to him; someone who cares enough to put in the effort, but doesn't care enough about what someone else is going to think. He knows it's because he’s never been able to do that. He’s always cared too much, which is another reason the idea of escaping is unthinkable. He cares too much about people questioning his decisions and judging his state of mind.

And it's not just that. He cares too much in general. He cares too much about his friends who are practically family, and the idea of leaving them behind is possibly the most painful idea above all the rest; he hates that too. He hates how he’s started thinking about _their_ happiness instead of his own.

He should have learnt his lesson by now. He cared too much about Pierce and he paid too much attention to his actions. He could have saved all that energy and _caring_ because he’s gone now, so it all just seems like a waste.

It's not the same with Troy, even though he’s probably gone for good now too. It's not the same because Troy was young and hopeful, and he _had_ that admirable bravery within him. He taught Jeff a lesson or two about getting out and getting going no matter what, and he’ll never forget that. He just hopes that Troy forgets all the pointless crap he’d fed him over the years. All the advice which he had no interest in storing for the future, and deep down, all the advice Jeff knew he’d never need.

He has to laugh quietly under his breath because he can't think of one person who would want to walk out of the bar with him knowing all of the morbid, hopeless thoughts that are pinging around in his mind.

He looks up and around and notices how empty the bar is for a Friday night. It’s not his usual spot because that's all the courage he has within him; just enough to change where he spends his evening. It's still dark and moody, but instead of sticky worn out tables with cardboard coasters scattered across them, there are tea lights and decorative ornaments and some other romantic crap he knows women are suckers for.

He turns his head to search the room further, dropping his eyes down the length of a woman passing by. Something glistens in her hand, though, and he knows immediately that she’s unavailable, probably off to the bathroom after cosying up in the corner booth in the back of the room, where a guy sits all alone, his legs spread open and his tie loosened around his neck.

When the sight of him becomes all too familiar, Jeff swivels back around to the counter where he finds his glass of scotch refilled. He tilts his head before shaking it, bringing the glass up to his lips.

He zones out then, not thinking of anything in particular. He’s just staring at a spot in front of him; the shiny reflection of an almost empty vodka bottle sitting on a shelf between several other blandly branded bottles. The barman walks back and forth a couple of times, probably wiping out glasses and mopping up surfaces as he goes, but Jeff’s stare stays fixed, his eyes drying out as he holds his drink mid-air.

He can hear voices in the background, the door of the bar opening and closing and chairs of the candle lit tables being pulled in and out against the floor. All the voices sound the same, though, and his focus is still so intense that he can't make out any specific reflections in front of him, so it's no wonder he doesn't notice her walk in.

He eventually spots her when he blinks and gulps back the remaining drops of his scotch, turning as he drops his glass with a thud. He plans to stand up and join whoever is standing over the pool table, the idea of wooing someone into the back of his car with a cliché ‘I’ll teach you’ move, firmly in his mind. But before he stands, he catches the sight of Annie’s beaming smile and he frowns in confusion, turning his back again, wishing he hadn't downed those last drops which were in front of him so quickly.

The confusion comes from the fact that it’s a Friday night and she’s usually studying and that she’s not alone and that she’s _smiling_ and that this is not the kind of place he ever expected to find her. But mainly – she’s not alone.

He glances back quickly, eyeing up the person sat in front of her, their back facing him in a silhouette of darkness. He can see they have fairly spiky hair and that their posture needs some work as they sit hunched over, the collar of their shirt popping up slightly. She’s still smiling when he turns back. He ends up having to hunch over himself in case she recognises him from behind. She’s done it before in the grocery store so he doesn't see why she wouldn't now.

She’s obviously on a date, he thinks. The universe is just a cruel coincidence making place that happens to have placed them in the same bar at the same time. Technically, she walked in after him, so if anything, this should only be awkward for her. Not that it should be awkward at all, in fact, he’s more than capable of still getting on with his evening with Annie on a date behind him.

He's experienced Britta walk out of a bar with someone else before, so it's no different. Well, it's different in the sense that Annie and Britta are no way alike, but it's the same because it shows he can deal with his close friends openly spending time (or _going to_ spend time) with someone else in front of him – or behind him, in this case.

He ends up taking the time he’s spending purposefully hunched over and hidden away to think about the past few weeks with Annie, to work out if there had been any signs as to the fact that she’s out and dating. Not that she’s not allowed to, he reassures himself, but just in case she’s already been dating and there’s a reason she’s been keeping him a secret.

He knows that secret relationships don't always end up working perfectly from experience because there always ends up being more than one reason for it being secretive.

He can't remember any specific conversations regarding her romantic life (he doesn't want to say _love life_ because that creates the assumption that it's more than just a relationship and that she’s genuinely wanting to settle down with whoever is currently sat opposite her) other than one that specifically revolved around him and platonic behaviour.

He was lying. He knows he was lying. It was a small white lie, though because most of the time things are platonic and non-romantic between them, but he can't deny the fact that sometimes a barrier gets crossed and all he’d have to do would be lean forward a little further over it and be there right with her. It doesn't mean he wants it, though. It's another thing he doesn't have enough courage to think about or imagine actually trying out because there’s too much risk involved that he’s not prepared to take.

He only has the courage to hold her shoulders, push her away, and hook up with strangers at bars. That’s who he is. He’s stuck in his ways and any doubt in not getting hurt will stick him down even further. He knows that. He cares too much. He cares too much about _her._

When he next looks up, there’s somebody stood at the end of the bar, tapping his hands against the counter as he waits for the barman to serve up whatever drinks he’s ordered. Jeff looks his away, at his hair and his shirt; his light stubble and his skin which is so clean that it's bright and white and rose tinted. He’s probably about 30, probably working in some boring office job which only allows for him to buy one nice shirt a year. If the shirt he’s wearing now is that shirt in particular, Jeff decides it’s not that nice anyway.

The barman finishes shaking up a concoction before pouring it boldly in front of him. One drink goes into a small short glass and the other goes into a taller one with a cherry red straw and matching, actual cherry on the side. There’s something so pristine about the guy taking the drinks and the actual drinks in his hands, that makes Jeff turn in his seat and confirm his suspicions.

The guy in the not-that-nice nice shirt is walking back towards the empty seat across from Annie. She’s still not noticed him, or has, but hasn't reacted, so Jeff carries on watching for a bit longer. The guy sits down and places the cherry flavoured mixture in front of her, and the other on his side of the table. He doesn't sit, though, he says something before walking away again, past the bar, then past the barman and through a door at the back which is labelled ‘Restroom’.

Jeff risks looking at what Annie’s wearing, deciding that her ‘date’ probably left for the bathroom because he’s realised how totally out of his league she is. She’s sat with her hair curled, brushed to one side over a jewel toned satin blouse which perfectly complements her complexion and the fitted trousers he can just about see under the table. She has a pair of heels on and it sends a burning sensation through his body, completely wiping out the longing for whoever else is in this goddamn stupid bar.

She shakes her head to move some stray hairs out of her face, before sitting up and widening her eyes to look around. She smiles before picking up her drink without looking, smoothly capturing the straw between her deep red lips which he knows would mark a cheek or leave someone else's lips perfectly stained.

She swallows but carries on holding her glass, before looking straight at him. She doesn't seem to move or make any kind of recognition of him until he bulges his eyes and turns. She squints and then looks away, those same red lips now parted as she rolls her eyes and realises that he’s been there all along. She’d looked over when she’d sat down but he’d looked like any other random stranger.

Now that she’s seen him, Jeff plans his exit. It would be rude of him to stay because she’s here with someone else and he’s here alone. He could leave and find someplace else and it not matter at all. But if she moved, it could change the outcome of her evening and whatever she’s expecting from her out-of-her-league date. He nods, flicks his hand up at the barman and throws some cash down from out of his pocket, taking a deep breath before standing up and being halted immediately.

He looks up in shock because for a split second he thinks it’s her. He thinks Annie’s come over to say hello or to berate him for ruining her date, but instead he looks down and sees a totally different brunette. She has a smile on her face and she’s far taller than Annie and he’s suddenly reminded that this is what he wanted at the start of the evening.

“Hi, oh, are you leaving? I was just about to come over and introduce myself. I’m Hannah.”

Hannah is a name too close to Anna, which is too close to Anne and too close to Annie.

“Uh, yeah, I am. Change of plans.”

“Well, we could change plans altogether if you wanted.” ‘Hannah’ smirks and drops her eyes to his top button, undressing him with her eyes he presumes. He’s seen it before, he knows the moves. He’s used them.

There’s a tiny part of him that wants to ignore everything and just pull her hand out of the door. He wants to walk across the road, get in his car and drive to a hidden place so that he can put a whole new meaning to the name Hannah, but he’s a fool, which means he ends up looking across at Annie and the chair which is once again occupied by her date. She’s looking his way, and he knows that she’s been watching everything play out since they made very brief eye contact.

He can feel her watching him, looking past the guy in front of her. He cares too much. He can't give in and let her see him take someone home he only knows the name of, even though she knows it's the sort of thing he’s done before – even though he knows she wouldn’t say anything about it; even though she would let him have his way if that’s what made him happy.

“It's an emergency. I should go. Have a good evening.” He gives the woman in front of him a smile and a brief look up and down to a least feed her with _something._

He blazes out the back door of the bar and walks as fast as he can back to his car. He knows he’s fine to drive so he climbs in as quickly as he can, strapping his belt up as he’s leaving the parking lot because he just wants to get away and get out of her hair, even though he’s outside now, in the open air where he can breathe and think about something else.

His thoughts only drift elsewhere temporarily though, because when he slumps down on his bed still in his clothes, his phone buzzes on one of the left-hand pillows which he doesn’t sleep on and he’s once more reminded that he can only control his side of things; he can only keep _his_ distance or keep _himself_ close. He can’t control what _she_ does.

He squints at his screen in the darkness and lazily replies with his eyes half closed.

ANNIE: You didn’t have to leave. I’m sorry you felt like you had to. I guess we both just have good taste in bars :)

JEFF: I know  
JEFF: I guess

ANNIE: You were perfectly welcome to stay.

JEFF: I couldn’t  
JEFF: have a gd rest of ur date

ANNIE: Thank you :)

He sighs when he remembers the last date he went on where he put in the effort to dress up and try and put his best foot forward. He can remember it clearly because he can remember how distracted and uninterested Michelle had been, which makes him laugh in his room all alone, because yeah, it’s been that long since he’s _seriously_ contemplated a relationship.

ANNIE: (P.S I don’t think he’s interested. He keeps getting up to the bathroom. Maybe he has a weak bladder?)

This time, he chuckles.


End file.
